


The Ones Still Loyal

by Princess_Alyra



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:12:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Alyra/pseuds/Princess_Alyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of Morgana's reign. Camelot's future has never looked so uncertain. They have one chance to either save the kingdom or destroy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blue sky. Green grass. The hustle of merchants and potential buyers in the market. Servants chasing dogs or corralling horses.

It was life as usual. Except not.

The prince strode mechanically across the courtyard, a line in her direction. He spared her no glance, as was proper. While brushing past her, he muttered, "Tonight, armory."

He didn't stop to make sure she'd heard.

There were guards in the armory, Gwen knew. There were guards everywhere, at all times, in threes or more. One to watch the others' backs, two to watch for intruders. And kill them, of course. "Incapacitate," they claimed.

Like everyone didn't know what that meant.

She made a show of pumping a bucket full of water - you could never be certain who was watching - and carried it to the bath house. This was the last task before lunch. Then she was permitted to eat and talk to the other maidservants about appropriate topics, in audible voices and in the presence of a higher authority.

And after that? Back to work. Back into solitude.

* * *

Wispy clouds blocked some but not all of the moonlight. A lone figure made her way to the armory, careful not to let her steps echo.

At the entrance, she found the prone bodies of four guards clothed in Cenredian garb. Of course there would be an extra here; it wouldn't do to let commoners get their hands on a weapon. She stepped carefully over a rotund belly and peered around.

From the shadows, the prince emerged.

"Glad you could make it," he whispered, nodding to the guards. "Took care of them earlier. Slipped a sleeping draft into their drinks."

Gwen shuddered, thinking of the risks that entailed. "It's a good thing they didn't clear out Gaius' cupboards," she replied, voice equally low. "Though it can't have been easy getting in there."

"It wasn't." Arthur's words were strained, like it caused him pain to say them. "Leon agreed to distract Merlin so I could sneak in."

"How is he? Leon, I mean." She knew full well how Merlin was.

Arthur stood stock still. "Dead."

Gwen's heart sank; in the past few months, Leon had become a remarkable friend as well as an ally. But truth be told, it wasn't surprising. He'd been battered and beaten at least twice a week since this mess began, but he took it all without complaint. It had always been only a matter of time before it got to him.

"He'll be missed," she said softly. Arthur took her hand and squeezed it.

"His death isn't in vain, I promise you. That's why I called you here. I've got a plan..."

* * *

"Ouch!" cried Gwen, biting her lip and averting her eyes. She didn't want to look at the blood on her hand, tiny pinprick or not.

Queen Morgana looked up disdainfully. "Perhaps if you weren't so clumsy, you could avoid such things," she snapped. "Carry on, and don't disturb me again."

Dipping her head respectfully, Gwen continued hemming one of the queen's dresses, until -  _"Ouch!"_ she exclaimed again, clutching her left hand with her right.

Morgana snapped again, "There was a time, Guinevere, when I swear you knew how to do these things properly! Go and wrap your hand, I have no interest in wearing blood-stained dresses."

Gwen nodded and hastened to obey. She reached the door before Morgana stopped her. "Wait," she commanded, then looked to the guards posted on each of the throne room doors. "Aglain, Peregrin, escort her."

The two burly men flanked her and led her from the hall, Gwen massaging her hand emphatically.

She waited until no one else was in sight.

Before either registered the knife in her hand, she'd slit both their throats, a messy but necessary procedure. It was quick and quiet, two things that were key in this plan.

She slid the blade back into her sleeve, in a tuck of cloth perfect for storing small objects.

Making sure the coast was clear, she dragged them into a store room and moved on to her next target.

* * *

As expected, Arthur already stood positioned outside the door.

_Does he know you're here?_  mouthed Gwen. The prince shook his head and beckoned her forward.

With agonizing slowness and praying it emitted no noise, he drew his sword. He moved to open the door, but it swung on its hinges of its own accord.

Or rather, of Merlin's accord.

"Did you really think you would get away with it?" he hissed in that voice so unlike his. Gwen felt the familiar weight in her stomach that accompanied hearing her old friend speak. "Lower your sword, Pendragon."

"Not on your life," replied the prince calmly, and he promptly knocked the sorcerer over the head with the hilt.

Now lifeless on the floor, Merlin didn't look any different than he used to, except that he didn't wear the neck scarf and sported a black jacket instead of a brown one.

Arthur knelt beside him and gently, tenderly, laid a hand on the side of Merlin's head. A small trickle of blood from the impact matted his hair. That was going to hurt like hell when he woke up.

"We're going to fix this," the prince murmured. Gwen couldn't tell if he was talking to Merlin or her. Perhaps a little bit of both.

Where Merlin's room used to be was now the store room for everything of value that he protected for Morgana, Morgause, and Cenred. Common knowledge whispered that the ancient spellbook resided under a floorboard, the single habit Merlin hadn't lost with his sense of self.

Gwen dragged the enormous tome from its dusty refuge and flipped through its pages, not looking for a solution, just wishing for one.

"That's not what we came here for," said a voice behind her. Arthur. He crossed the room in three long strides and pointed to a crystal.

It looked innocent enough - certainly not important, for it simply sat there on the shelf, gathering dust like the spellbook.

Then the prince reached out to touch it, and a glowing energy shield sprang to life around it. He nodded, as though he'd expected as much.

"How are we going to get to it?" Gwen asked worriedly. She knew all too well what happened when skin or anything else came into contact with such a barrier. Then: "What  _is_ it?"

"It's Merlin," replied Arthur.

Which shouldn't have made sense, but did.

"And how do we free it?"

"We poison it."

* * *

She was reminded forcibly of the goblin fiasco as she and Arthur selected the appropriate poison and antidote.

The tincture of nightshade sizzled on contact with the energy shield. It wanted to burn through it fast as lightning like it did everything else, but it recognized the danger of poison.

She could almost hear the magic's thought process. If it disappeared and let the poison pass, it would destroy the thing it guarded. It would not sacrifice itself for something that deserved to die anyway.

The shield winked out, and instantly the poison sank instead into the crystal.

It wasn't so much a crystal as a sphere of magic, not unlike the energy barrier, but soothing instead of irate. They couldn't touch it, Arthur warned. Then they would take it into themselves.

Together they hauled Merlin's limp figure into the storage room. Arthur dumped a glass of ice-cold water onto his face to wake him.

Empty blue eyes flickered open and darkened instantly. He struggled to his feet, coldly demanding, "Who  _dare_ -"

"I do," said Arthur simply, and pushed him into the shelf.

Merlin stumbled forward and hit the shelf with a  _crash_. He bellowed in fury, but as he did, his hand passed through the blue-white sphere. He stopped moving with a jolt, staring curiously at his hand where it had just absorbed the magic.

A shiver ran up his spine, a visible, pulsing shiver. His over-dilated pupils shrank to normal size, his skin white as death regained what little pallor he'd ever had. The unfriendly black jacket slipped off his shoulders as he shook, trembling uncontrollably from head to toe.

He blinked rapidly, like he'd just looked into a bright light and his vision was still clearing. He looked from Gwen to Arthur, a question written on his face and then voiced aloud.

"Arthur?" he asked, like he wasn't sure, and then abruptly collapsed.

* * *

It took hours for him to wake this time.

"My head," was the first thing he said, putting a hand to the offending body part and moaning. Gwen turned over the cloth on his brow and pressed it down softly. Arthur continued to squeeze his hand, looking like he wanted nothing more than to throw up.

"You're back, then," he remarked. Merlin's gaze grew unfocused and then cleared again. "I thought..."

"What?" inquired Merlin, but all of them already knew. He glanced around and winced. "It hurts," he groaned.

"What does?"

" _Everything_. The light, my head, moving, even sitting here. What the bloody hell did you do to me?"

Arthur didn't look at him when he said, "Poison."

Merlin stiffened, then relaxed. "Well," he said with deceiving calm. "I can't say I remember what I've done in the past... how long has it been? But I'm guessing whatever it was, I deserve this."

"No," growled Arthur fiercely. "No, you  _damn well_ don't deserve this! That complete  _witch_ deserves this and more for everything she did to Camelot, to you, to all of us!" He said "witch" like an insult. Gwen didn't know if he meant Morgana or Morgause. "Nothing you did will be held against you, not by anyone on our side. Morgana may call herself queen, but to those still loyal to us, my word will be enough to protect you." He glared, like he dared Merlin to deny it.

"Then there is something to protect me from."

Arthur flinched, but didn't hesitate to respond. "Yes."

Gwen caught his eye, and they both silently agreed not to mention Leon. At least not yet.

"How bad is it?" Arthur took a deep breath and described, in a very condensed fashion, what had gone on the last few months. The other man's face grew sourer and more pained with each word. "So what's our plan?" he asked when Arthur brought him up to date.

It was the prince's turn to wince. "We were hoping you could tell us," he admitted.

Merlin shut his eyes and sank against the hard cot. Why hadn't the supposed most powerful sorcerer alive transfigured himself a better bed?

Magic. Merlin. It still didn't sit quite right with her.

"They're too strong to take as one," he said at last. "We need to separate them. Who are their strongest supporters?"

"Nearly everyone," Arthur answered grimly.

Gwen shook her head. "That's not true. Perhaps nearly everyone obeys the queen's will, but how many would follow her to the death if it came to that? Few knights would choose her side over yours, Arthur, and even fewer who were knights before Morgause took over."

Funny, how Morgause's came more readily to her lips than Morgana's. The queen had been her friend once, and now she was Camelot's marionette on twisted strings.

"There's something you should know," put in Arthur. "The Druid boy, Mordred... He's Sir Mordred now. I think he's meant to be a secret weapon, but I already know he has magic, and he's made it clear he's no friend to us."

At the mere mention of Mordred's name, Merlin paled in unmistakable alarm. "No," he breathed. "He's here? In Camelot? As a  _knight_?"

Arthur frowned. "Surely it's not that dis-  _breathe_ , Merlin!"

The lanky boy's body jerked and spasmed suddenly, threatening to throw him off the cot. Arthur's firm arms anchored him in place while Gwen watched helplessly.

When he was in control again, Merlin gasped out, "S-sorry, I didn't-"

"It's the poison, don't worry, we know," Gwen reassured him. She took the cloth from his forehead, dipped it in the bucket of cold water, and wrung it out before repositioning it. "You need to rest and get better."

"I can't rest!" he protested, trying to sit up, but Arthur still had a hand pressed to his chest that hindered all movement. "Camelot is-"

"The exact same as it's been for four months," finished Arthur. "As long as no one tries anything stupid, they'll be fine."

Merlin clamped his mouth shut, and it occurred to Gwen that as terrible and weak as he looked right now, he was already stronger than the fake had been. Magic could only do so much.

They sat there, the three of them, the ones still loyal, and considered what few choices they had. When at last they came to a rough decision on the best course of action, Gwen returned to the queen, mumbling that the guards had left her alone and she'd tried waiting for them to return as an escort, but they never showed.

Morgana believed every word.


	2. Chapter 2

"You sure this will work?"

"Not in the slightest."

Arthur smiled ruefully. "I thought not."

Some persuasion had been necessary for Arthur to allow Gwen into the plan, but in the end, it was a matter of not being able to spare her help.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin muttered, "Nothing for it," and with a tug revealed himself, Arthur, and Gwen from around the throne room door.

Queen Morgana's gaze drifted to them from where she sat at leisure, one leg crossed over the other and an arm draping on that of the throne's. A mocking smile spread on her face when she saw the identity of her guests. "Merlin, you are most welcome. I must ask, why have you brought these peasants before me?"

It took all Gwen's self-control not to snarl that Arthur was far more noble than she could ever hope to be. Instead, she channeled her hatred into making the act more believable. She tugged her arm, which throbbed under Merlin's firm grasp.

Merlin sneered. "My Lady, the whelp and the wench attempted to assault me in my own home yesterday. I suggest you keep them under closer watch in future, or I shall have to deal with them myself." His eyes glowed dark, merciless gold. Gwen shivered; her friend's pretense was far too believable.

After all, just yesterday, it would have been real.

With a contemptuous wave, Morgana said, "Do with them as you will. I trust any punishment you deliver will be appropriate." She smirked and raised her chin at Arthur. "The fool Pendragon could use an incentive to silence his treacherous tongue. Don't believe for a second that I'm not aware of your talks with the knights. I know which ones ask to guard you out of loyalty; hear now that I have already selected suitable punishments for them, as well."

On the other side of Merlin, Gwen felt Arthur's violent jerk as he struggled to reach his half sister, but the sorcerer held fast. Gwen suspected Arthur wasn't acting at all.

Merlin must have sensed that it was time to end this pleasant chat. "Thank you, My Lady," he said with a disgustingly deep bow. He then escorted the other two forcefully from the throne room. Gwen let out a cry of pain as his fingers dug deeper into her wrist.

He released them as soon as they rounded the corner. "Sorry," he whispered, spotting the impression of his grasp on her arm. "It had to look real."

"I know," she said, trying to smile though her eyes were filling with tears. This was all wrong. Once upon a time Merlin never would have come close to hurting her, for good reason or not. Then again, neither would have Morgana.

Arthur slipped his hand around hers and squeezed. "Come on," he said with a forced note of cheer. "Let's go get whipped."

* * *

Wary faces greeted them in the streets. What did Merlin want with the former Crown Prince and the queen's personal maid? Several eyes widened when they saw the long bull whip the sorcerer had in one hand.

A Cenredian guard eyed the whip with disbelief, but said nothing. Presumably he wondered why a feared magician needed physical weapons, but was too frightened to ask in case Merlin decided he needed punishment, too.

Gwen's hopes lifted ever so slightly upon seeing Sir Gwaine, stalking toward them with a determined contempt. She knew how much it cost him to view Merlin as an enemy - almost as much as it had cost Arthur, and perhaps more than it had cost her.

"Don't you  _dare_  hurt them," he commanded, chin raised high. The defiance turned to surprise when Merlin released Gwen's arm in favor of snatching his and yanking him under the cover of a merchant's tent.

A plump man was trying with desperation to sell a clearly fake emerald to a customer who wasn't amused in the slightest. "Leave us," Merlin told them both, conjuring the cold air he'd carried for four months.

They didn't need to be told twice; the man dropped the emerald in his rush to get out of the way.

Merlin turned round to face Gwaine. "Of course I'm not going to hurt them, you daft old drunkard," he said with a sideways smile.

Gwaine's whole face lit up, and he wasted no time in pulling his old friend into a tight, one-armed hug. "Should have known Arthur would sooner run you through than let you drag him around like that," he proclaimed cheerfully. "I can't believe it's really you. So what's the plan?"

Gwen hid a smile as Merlin rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone seem to think I've had this brilliant plan stored up for four months? I was a bit busy causing Camelot's downfall and whatnot." His tone when he said it was humorous enough, but Gwen knew it was killing him inside to think about what all he must have done.

"It wasn't your fault," said Arthur firmly, taking him by the shoulder and forcing Merlin to look him in the eye. He wasn't satisfied until the other man nodded, however reluctantly he did it. "As for a plan, Gwaine, we came up with one last night. I think you'll be interested in hearing it."

He quickly relayed the details to the knight, with occasional input from Merlin, who elaborated on all the parts that involved magic. "Are you up for it?" he asked when they were finished, sure he knew the answer but firm in the notion that it was Gwaine's choice entirely.

"It sounds suicidal," Gwaine mused, lifting his head and considering the three rebels before him. Merlin grinned, positive he knew what was coming. "Though I suppose suicide's a damn sight better than serving Her Royal Highness."

"Cheers," said Arthur, clapping on the back. "Good man. Now tell me, do you know of anyone else who might offer us their allegiance?"

"Lancelot," replied Gwaine without missing a beat. "And Percival. The new knight, Tristan - he might be of some use. Not many of the newer recruits would dare follow you into battle unless they thought you were winning, but the older ones, the ones who knew you... they've been talking for some time now about an uprising."

His eyes lit with excitements, but Arthur shook his head. "We're not planning on a battle," he said firmly. "If everything works out as smoothly as we hope it will, we can avoid most of the fighting."

Gwaine smiled wanly. "I never thought I'd see the day that Arthur Pendragon tried to avoid a fight. There's a first time for everything, I suppose."

* * *

They waited until that same evening, and by then none were willing to wait any longer.

Gwen helped her mistress into her nightgown and blew out the candle. "Goodnight, My Lady," she said stiffly, careful to employ the same mannerisms as any other night. "Sleep well."

She wouldn't, though. Even if she wore the bracelet hidden inconspicuously under Gwen's dress sleeve, she would not sleep well tonight.

"Guards, escort Guinevere to her chambers," Queen Morgana said sleepily, burying her raven-framed face into the pillow. She did not look up again, which was a good thing, because she surely would have noticed that the single guard who entered was not the same as normal.

Lancelot took her by the hand and led her quickly down the hall. Pretenses didn't matter now, because anyone who saw them would know at once that something was wrong. "Gwaine and Arthur are waiting for us at the gate," he said in a low voice. She knew this already, but did not say so. She was comforted at the sound of his voice and didn't want to silence it. "This is really happening."

"I know."

It scared her a little, that tonight she was either going to die or be free, but mostly it thrilled her. Was this how her father felt when he tried to escape the dungeon? "I wish Elyan were still here." She bit her lip.

Lancelot slowed down fractionally and said, "He would be proud of you. You're so brave, Gwen." He hesitated. "Listen, if I don't make it out of this alive-"

"You will," Gwen interrupted at once, squeezing his hand. "We all will. I refuse to believe that I will lose anyone else tonight."

The knight didn't reply, but his eyes said it all.  _If it comes to it, I will die for you._ Tears sprung unbidden to Gwen's eyes. Arthur had said much the same thing to her many times over since Morgana took the throne, but she knew he could never do that. He was the prince in all but title, Camelot's only hope of salvation. Lancelot would have no hesitation taking a sword to the chest for her, and it scared her.

True to the plan, Arthur and Gwaine were positioned as guards at the gate. Gwen rushed into Arthur's waiting arms, relief washing over her now that they were together. Whatever happened now, it would happen to both of them.

Her mind wandered to Lancelot. Nay, it would happen to all three of them.

"You can let go now, I'm getting jealous," jibed Gwaine when the hug lasted a little longer than it needed to. Arthur scowled at him but released his hold.

"Where's Merlin?" asked Lancelot, lifting his eyes to the heavens. His eyebrows knitted together, concerned. "He should be here by now."

"I'm sure he'll be here any moment," Arthur assured him, then frowned, as if to say,  _He'd better be._

A shadow blotted out the moon for a brief second. It descended quickly toward them, and Gwen wondered how anyone could hang on to a steed that flew so steeply. When the dragon landed and Merlin dismounted, however, he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Everyone," he said, "meet Kilgharrah. He's the only reason we're still alive. Kilgharrah, let me formally introduce you to the Once and Future King."

"The what?" demanded Arthur, but he received no answer except a wide grin. Gwen was relieved to see it; Merlin wasn't Merlin without that grin. "Fine, keep your secrets. Lord knows I can't stop you. We have important things to do."

"This is true, young Pendragon," the dragon's voice rumbled. Arthur started and did a double take. "The last time we met, I was a threat to your kingdom. Now you must accept my help if you wish to free it from tyranny."

Lancelot hurried to answer for him. "Please help us," he asked respectfully, dark eyes locked on the golden ones of the Great Dragon.

Kilgharrah chuckled. "How very noble, Sir Lancelot, but even your nobility cannot speak for Camelot."

"It has to be Arthur," Merlin said softly.

The once-prince couldn't help but feel wary, if not exactly afraid, of the beast that once tore his city apart. It was a lot to take in, but seeing Merlin standing windswept next to the hulking form, not a hint of reluctance in his eyes, convinced Arthur that this was an option he had to take.

"We accept."

The Great Dragon reared back on its haunches and roared.

* * *

In her chambers, Queen Morgana woke with a strangled cry, quivering and sweating like the old days. She groped for her wrist and found it bare.

Cursing everyone from her father to the High Priestesses, Morgana lit her candle with a whisper and stumbled to the window, peering out into the night.

A black shape approached, beating its wings noisily against the sky. Morgana backed away; she had heard tales of this monster, but had never seen it herself.

"GUARDS!" she shrieked, her terror causing the glass window to shatter. The dragon flew closer until it hovered just outside her bedroom, its great snout poking inside. Someone was perched on its back, but she couldn't see who. All the breath rushed out of Morgana's lungs when it spoke.

"The Witch Morgana. We meet at last."

* * *

The warning bell echoed even within the castle walls, but the band of rebels ignored it. They knew very well why it had been sounded, and it meant that all was going to plan.

They rounded a corner, and Merlin stopped them all with a signal. "This is where we part our ways," he said gravely. "Lancelot, I need you with me. Percival, stand guard outside Morgana's room. Make sure she can't leave. Gwaine, Tristan, Gwen - Cenred shouldn't be a problem. He'll give up when he realizes he can't win. He doesn't have any real power, anyway."

"Morgause's puppet," said Gwaine in disgust. "What kind of woman would take that piece of slime to bed every night?"

"Good luck," Lancelot told them all, and he and Merlin hurried off to find Morgause.

The witch's chambers were in one of the towers, much higher than anyone else would choose for their living space. Merlin and Lancelot were short of breath by the time they reached her door, which was predictably flanked by two guards on each side. They drew their swords simultaneously, but Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and all four collapsed at once, silent.

"What do you need me for, again?" Lancelot asked, awed. Merlin took him by the arm and pushed a strange, pale gold object in his hand.

"If it looks like I'm losing, which is very possible, I need you to pull this out of your pocket and destroy it with your sword. Got it?"

Lancelot blinked. "Destroy it?" he said, looking down at the crystalline thing. Merlin nodded. "Why?"

"You'll see when the time comes," Merlin said grimly. "Just don't think about too much."

He muttered a word and pushed the door open, walking in as casually as if it were his own room. Lancelot followed with more apprehension, not sure what to expect.

A woman with long blonde hair sat in bed, her ruby dress a stark contrast to the pure white blankets beneath her. She watched them with her large, dark eyes, drinking in the sight of her visitors.

"My dear Merlin," she said with false sweetness, smiling at him and beckoning him forward. "Have you brought Sir Lancelot here for punishment? Surely you could take care of any misdeeds yourself."

"Don't, Morgause," Merlin said quietly. "You already know I'm not your fool on a string anymore. This has to end. Morgana will leave, and Arthur will take his rightful place as king."

Morgause chuckled softly, surveying him until it seemed she memorized every inch. "Who is to say what is right and what isn't? Surely not a peasant from a farming village in someone else's kingdom. Cenred was most displeased when I informed him of your upbringing. Your loyalty should have been his from the start."

"My loyalty goes to whomever deserves it, and that person is Arthur.  _King_ Arthur."

Morgause's eyes darkened. "You would undermine my sister's authority before even daring an attempt at usurping her? How unwise, Merlin."

"You have undermined her authority yourself, from the very beginning. The throne was never meant to be hers, but  _yours_ in disguise."

Lancelot slowly drew his sword. Morgause's gaze snapped to him in an instant. "Your friend here seems to want to carry on with your mission," she said, rising gracefully to her feet. "If you are not too much of a coward, Emrys, then I have no objections."

Lancelot could do little more than watch as the two masters of magic began to duel.

* * *

Gwen knew very little about either Tristan or Gwaine, except that the latter was fond of mead, but she learned quickly that both were good with a sword.

"More guards than I expected this little creep to have," Gwaine grunted, just managing to parry a blow by one of the burly men. He raised his voice and said, "Then again, I expected him to be man enough to fight for himself, too."

Cenred glowered at him from his safe position on the opposite side of the room, made unreachable by the wall of guards currently fighting off Gwaine, Tristan, and Gwen's best efforts. Tristan thrust his blade into one's shoulder, dropping the other man to the floor.

Not long after that, Gwaine felled another guard, and an opening let him through at a charge to Cenred. The two engaged in a fierce duel, but Gwen could not watch. It was all she could do to fend off the remaining six soldiers at Tristan's side.

"There's no way we can keep this up for long," Tristan breathed in her ear, narrowly avoiding decapitation.

"It's just until Cenred surrenders," Gwen gasped back, her blade locked against another. Her attacker had grisly hair and a manic snarl of yellow teeth. He proved stronger than her, and Tristan had to block the next blow as she stumbled backward into him.

A loud yelp made everyone turn toward the two on the opposite side. Gwaine withdrew his sword from Cenred's gut, stepping back in satisfaction and swinging the blade around in his hand. "That was simple," he said smugly, facing the others.

Gwen exhaled a long breath of air and rejoiced silently.  _At least one part of our plan has worked._

That was when something connected with the backside of her head, and she slumped forward into darkness.

* * *

Morgana lifted a shaking finger to point at the dragon. "You," she choked, the air still refusing to return to her lungs. " _You_. What are you doing here? I demand you leave at once!"

The Dragon laughed openly at her. "You foolish girl, you have no power over me! You are queen in name only. Pendragon or not, the crown was never meant for you."

Morgana forgot her fear for a moment, and her lip curled. "So you say, yet if my  _brother_ is too much of a coward to face a challenge himself, then he is hardly fit to be king. Why should he lay claim to the throne, just because he is the child Uther boasted about and I am the one he kept secret? I have  _rights_ to Camelot, and my father was a fool if he thought he could take them away from me!"

"It is no small thing to insult the destined king of all Albion," warned the Great Dragon. He angled his face and neck downward, leaving Morgana with the smug assumption that he was giving up. The smirk was wiped off her face when a familiar figure walked confidently along the creature's bent spine and stepped into her room.

"Hello, Morgana." His voice was strained, and he didn't try for a smile.

"Arthur." She bit back a string of curses that would send him straight back through the window. "I see I was wrong. You've come to face me after all."

"It's a shame that you thought so little of me. All those years I spent proving myself again and again to the kingdom, and it obviously did nothing to gain your good opinion."

Morgana snorted. "Well? Are you going to stand there reminiscing old times, or are you going to run me through?"

"I wouldn't dream of running you through, Morgana, even if I thought you would go down without a fight."

Her eyes burned gold at a whisper, and a shimmering wall of light expanded between them. "You're less of the fool you were mere months ago. You have changed, Arthur. You no longer think only with your sword. Yet I still cannot trust you to keep your word."

He did not appear surprised, but his face did twitch into a familiar expression of vague annoyance. "I'm not the traitor of the two of us. If anyone should worry about the other not keeping their word, it's me. But if it makes you feel better, go ahead. Keep your shield up. I just want to talk."

"Fine. We can talk. I'll start; how is it that you have a dragon for a steed?"

"An old friend talked him into a favor."

When Morgana put two and two together, she was outraged. "Merlin! If it weren't for Morgause, I would have had him hanged the day I became queen. I'll never understand why she decided to keep him alive. There are far less irritating pets she could have captured."

Arthur's face darkened, and she had to wonder if she had pushed him too far. She was in no danger either way, thanks to the protective barrier. Then again, with a dragon hovering just outside the window...

"Morgause probably realized that your rule wouldn't have lasted half this long without someone as powerful as Merlin. Too bad for her, the enchantment wasn't indestructible. The most powerful sorcerer in the world is free."

"And not here," Morgana observed. "Unless  _he's_ the one standing guard outside my door."

To her chagrin, this did not affect Arthur in the slightest. "No, that would be Sir Percival," he replied mildly. "He won't bother you, though. He's just there to make sure no one else tries to interrupt our conversation."

 _And also to make sure I don't try to escape it_. "What exactly do you hope to achieve here, anyway?" she asked, growing bored with the words that drew them no closer to a goal. "You say you wish only to talk, but for what purpose? Do you think you can overthrow me with nothing more but a few well-chosen words?"

Her temper flared one last time when Arthur's mouth finally uplifted itself into its usual condescending smile. "That's the general idea, yes."


	3. Chapter 3

"What makes you think I am so easily swayed?" demanded the queen, chin held high in defiance. "I will not betray everything I believe in no matter  _what_ you propose to tell me!"

Sick of standing in one spot, Arthur finally moved from his position next to the window and instead inspected the contents of the bookshelf on the adjoining wall. Morgana's barrier kept him from accessing more than half of the contents, but most of them sported titles in the indecipherable letters of the Old Religion.

"Betrayal is nothing new to you, so why not?" he asked with a hint of sadness. "That's not really the point, though. When I'm done, you won't think of it as betrayal. You'll realize that what you've done all along is wrong."

"Oh?" Morgana sneered. "And why is that?"

The dragon, having remained silent for so long, frightened her when its giant head swung back into view. In a deep rumble, it told her, "You have seen the consequences of your actions and felt neither regret nor mercy. The Witch Morgause and your hatred for Uther's crimes have you blinded you to your own. See now the true damage you have caused in your world, and decide for yourself if you will continue down your path."

The room slid sideways out of Morgana's vision, to be replaced by a familiar sight: the throne room. In the royal seat was a middle-aged version of herself, head bent and shoulders slumped. A guard stood on either side of her, backs straight and helmets obscuring their faces. She glanced around, uncertain, and said, "Hello?"

The older Morgana did not look up. Morgana's heels clicked against the floor as she approached her future and shook her shoulder gently. At least, she tried to, but found that her fingers passed right through.

A man cleared his throat behind her. Morgana spun around, noticing as she did so that her older self finally displayed some signs of life.

It was Mordred, but unlike the boy she'd knighted out of loyalty, he was tall, fierce, and frightening, even to her. His blue eyes pierced her even though she knew she must be invisible to him. He reminded her of the way Merlin had appeared these last four months, only Mordred was under no enchantment.

"Morgana," Mordred said, and bowed. A sword was slung at his hip; he must have been trained to fight like a real knight, though she couldn't imagine why. "Merlin has succumbed completely. He shows no signs of awareness now."

"You have done well, my son," cooed the seated queen. Morgana's eyes widened. She cared for Mordred even now, but since when had she taken to calling him her son? "Rise, Mordred; you need not bow before me. My heir will not stoop like a commoner when he approaches his mother on the throne."

Mordred stood as commanded. "Very well, Mother. Have you considered my earlier suggestion about what exactly to  _do_ with the old wizard?" His eyes gleamed. The malice in his voice made Morgana distinctly uncomfortable.

Queen Morgana laughed hoarsely. Her voice seemed damaged somehow, and now that Morgana saw her face, it appeared that her beauty had faded into something sallow and withered. "Oh, Mordred, I hardly think it will be necessary to use poor Merlin for kindling. There are plenty of other trees in the kingdom."

 _Trees?_ Merlin was a  _tree?_

She glanced out a window, as though something outside would confirm the realization, and what she saw made her heart twist.

Her elder self's declaration that there were plenty of other trees for kindling was not entirely founded. While it would have been easily true in the Camelot Morgana remembered, the land outside was dead and void of color. It was brown, barren wasteland.

Her breath catching, Morgana's only desire was to get away, and in an instant, the scenery changed, but not for the better. She was in the lower town now, outside the Rising Sun tavern, and she was utterly alone. It was midday, the time when the streets were meant to be alive and flourishing with trade. Yet, not a single shop was open, not a single soul made noise.

The door to someone's house opened, and a little boy burst out of it, chasing down a cat that happened to creep by. His mother followed a heartbeat later, hissing, "Tobias, get back in here! If one of the soldiers sees you, you'll be executed!"

"Mother," whined the boy in a voice far louder than the woman's, "I'm  _hungry_. When is father going to come back from hunting?"

The woman looked dangerously close to tears. "Oh, Toby," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Morgana had a bad feeling that whoever this boy's father was, he wasn't going to return from his hunting trip.  _If he even went hunting._

The boy and his mother disappeared back into their house, and soon the lower town disappeared altogether. Instead Morgana found herself at a lake. At first she thought she was alone again, but soon her eyes fell upon a girl no older than herself, with wavy brown hair cascading down her back and translucent skin. She stroked the trunk of a willow growing alongside the water.

"Word from Morgana arrived today," she whispered to the tree, and with a jolt, Morgana realized that the branches and knots were assembled in such a way that they looked vaguely like human characteristics. "She's doing what she can, but Mordred is stronger. She cannot openly defy him like she did Morgause."

 _Merlin_ , Morgana thought. It had to be. After all, there couldn't be that many trees that had once been people. For some reason, she wasn't as happy as she should have been that her nemesis was sealed somewhere in the bark.

The brown-haired girl continued to talk. "You have no idea how much she needs you right now. How much we all need you. Mordred is the only one whose magic has survived since he and Morgana locked you away. The only powers she still has are her nightmares." She closed her eyes. "I wish Avalon could prevent them from coming true."

The world dissolved back into Morgana's chambers, where she knelt on the ground, panting and shaking. The wall of magic had shattered, and the room's temperature was boiling. She concentrated on cooling it down again.

Arthur crouched down beside her and forced her to look at him. "The Dragon told me how it goes," he said quietly. "You kill me tonight, and then you and Mordred take Merlin by surprise. You spend years torturing him in the dungeon, until one night, he almost escapes. To make sure it doesn't happen again, you, Morgause, and Mordred curse him to stand beside the lake of Avalon forever, entombed in a tree. The curse combines with his magic and spreads through the roots as a poison. It kills everything in Camelot. You realize your mistake when it's far too late, and you confront Morgause. It gets out of hand, and you kill her... by accident," he added at the look on Morgana's face. "You lie to Mordred about why she died so he doesn't suspect. You make him your heir because he forces you to, and he as good as controls Camelot from that point on.

"You work with the High Priestesses in secret to try and free Merlin and undo the poison, but the poison in Merlin's magic, the poison  _Mordred_ is to blame for, chokes the Old Religion. Mordred's soul is so poisoned already that it only makes him stronger. In the end, my father is not the one who succeeds in destroying magic." Arthur sighed. "It's you."

Morgana's mind rebelled his words angrily. "Mordred is the one who imprisons him!" she cried desperately. "I try to fix it, you said so!"

Arthur's face was shadowed. "You do try to fix it," he agreed, "but you can't. Because of the choice you make  _tonight_ , and the choices that led you to kill my father and overthrow him in the first place, magic will be destroyed."

It took a long time for Morgana to calm down, but when she did, she asked in a shaky voice, "What is the choice I must make instead, then?"

* * *

For the first time, Lancelot felt scared at what Merlin - the  _real_ Merlin - could do. He knew that his friend would never use his powers for ill, but watching him in his duel against Morgause left him awe-struck.

Merlin's and Morgause's magic engaged in a complicated dance for dominance, and so far they were at an impasse. Blue eyes now seemed permanently gold, and not since the fight began had Lancelot heard a word he understood. The spells were carried out in quick succession, so fast he wondered how either managed to block them all. They were equals, Merlin's vast store of raw magic and Morgause's advantage of experience.

Lancelot stood off to the side, feeling useless with his sword in his hand. The scrap of metal meant nothing when it came to a fight against magic. He could lunge at Morgause and hope to distract her long enough for Merlin to overtake her, but his honor held him in place.

The roar of a dragon interrupted a fight that Lancelot suspected might have gone on forever. Morgause froze, and her eyes finally faded to their normal color. Merlin put his arm down, exhausted. "It's over, Morgause," he said, watching for her reaction. "Morgana has chosen to step down."

"Never!" Morgause drew a knife from within the sleeve of her dress, but it flew from her hand without a word from the warlock. "She would never turn against her sister!"

"She was always going to realize the truth. The only question was how much damage she had to cause before it happened."

With a screech of anger, Morgause's eyes blazed, and Merlin was thrown off his feet. He was thrown into the far wall, where he slid to the ground and did not move again. Lancelot finally intervened, his heart rate quickening at the sight of his unconscious friend, and hoping nothing more serious had befallen him.

"Don't," he said, raising his sword when Morgause moved toward Merlin's body. She sneered at him and raised her arm. "I meant it," he warned, remembering the little gold gem Merlin had given him. Slowly, Lancelot reached inside his pocket.

"Like you can stop me," she jeered. She started muttering a spell, and Lancelot knew that if he did not succeed now, he and Merlin both were doomed.  _"Forlor sé wæpenbora ond-"_

She cut off with an agonized shriek as Lancelot threw the gem to the ground and brought the hilt of his sword crashing down on it. It shattered into a million pieces, glowing the deep golden color he associated with magic. Merlin jerked awake, yelling and squeezing his eyes shut again, curling against the wall with his fists clenched. His chest heaved with some unseen effort. He looked awful, but it was nothing compared to Morgause.

The sorceress clutched at her arms, drawing blood from the way her nails pierced the skin. She collapsed and writhed on the floor, tearing the cloth of her dress. The screams and sobs that tore from her throat did not cease until at last her eyes rolled up in her head, and she either passed out or died. Lancelot was not sure which, for he was busy at Merlin's side, trying to soothe the pained warlock.

"How do I stop it?" he asked desperately. Merlin wasn't screaming quite as much as Morgause, but a horrible sound burst forth every now and then.

"C-can't stop," he gasped. "Find - Kilgharrah-" And then he, like Morgause, went limp. Lancelot made sure he was still breathing before he ran from the room.

* * *

"She'll be all right," assured Tristan, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. When he, Morgana, and Percival had caught up with the others in Cenred's chambers, only to find Guinevere injured and unconscious, he had feared the worst. "It's not bleeding very badly, and her breathing is even."

Morgana, her eyes red, surveyed the damage. "Gwen," she whispered, putting a hand on her faithful maid's forehead. "I let this happen."

"You're making up for it," said Arthur. He did his best to aim his anger at Gwen's wound toward the underhanded guard who caused it. He should have looked at his half-sister and insisted that it wasn't her fault, but it would have cost him too much.

Without warning, Lancelot appeared, panting and skidding to a halt before the reinstated prince. "The dragon... we need-" He froze when he saw Gwen on the ground, Tristan kneeling beside her a pressing a cloth to the back of her head. The sight of the bloodstain, small though it was, made his own face drain of the substance. "What happened?" he croaked, unable to say more.

"She'll be fine," Gwaine recited. He was leaning against he wall, playing idly with the sword in his hand. "It's a shallow wound, she doesn't have a concussion, and if you had been here five seconds ago you would know that. Now, what were you saying about a dragon and needing something?"

Lancelot blinked, looking from Gwen's prone form to Gwaine's unconcerned one and suddenly remembered that another of his friends was in considerably more danger. With great difficulty, he pushed Gwen from his mind and blurted out, "Kilgharrah must fly to Morgause's tower at once! Something happened to Merlin when I..." He swallowed. "He told me to break something if it looked like he was going to lose, but when I did, it affected both of them. Morgause is dead, I think, and Merlin..." He shrugged slightly, the panic setting in again. "We have to go," he added desperately.

Arthur took Morgana by the arm and led her to the door. "Maybe there's something you can do about this." Then he turned to Lancelot and said, "In the future, when Merlin gives you something that he claims will save the day if there's no alternative, it probably means it's some kind of magical, self-sacrificial item the idiot made himself. My first act as the newly reappointed prince of Camelot is to order you to convince him never to do it again."

He took off at a run, Morgana following behind with less urgency, but still with a look of fear on her face. It occurred to Lancelot that he should have known all along what would happen if he did what Merlin asked; why else would it be a last resort?

He could only hope the dragon had a solution.

* * *

By the time they got there, the Great Dragon had already arrived. Merlin, still on the ground and comatose but no longer consumed by pure agony, groaned. The golden shards of the gem had vanished. "What was that thing?" Lancelot asked, still ashamed that he had not realized sooner what it would do.

"It was of Merlin's own making," replied Kilgharrah. His jaws barely fit in the window, which was much smaller than Morgana's. "It was a simple crystal, imbued with sorcery to poison the magic of anyone nearby."

Lancelot's mouth fell open. "How did he  _survive_?"

The dragon, tired of being cramped in the small area, removed his mouth from the room entirely and spoke from outside the window. "Morgause was overcome quickly by the enchantment. The young warlock, however, has too much magic for it to have been so easily destroyed. I have purged the crystal of power; it is no longer a threat. Merlin will awaken soon enough."

With a flourish of wings, the Great Dragon hoisted himself higher into the air and flew away, leaving everyone with a strange feeling of helplessness. How did they carry on now, with no one to guide them?

The sound of weeping broke the silence. Morgana sat on the floor beside Morgause, not attempting to hide her tears. She stroked her sister's blonde hair and whispered something about lies and betrayal. Arthur pretended not to notice until she got to her feet, stumbled toward him, and buried her face in his shoulder, shaking and clutching him tighter. He wrapped his arms around her, thankful that his only surviving family member was Camelot's daughter again, even if she would never be the same. She would heal, given time.

He thought of Gwen, and how it felt to see her lying so still, not knowing what had happened. He looked to Merlin, whose body twitched now and then, who looked positively awful with the pale skin and irremediably ruffled hair and clothes. Gwen and Merlin would heal, too. They all would.

With a new dawn rising in Camelot, a kingdom that needed strong leaders more than ever, they were going to have to.

* * *

"How are you?" Morgana asked Merlin days later. She was unsure how to act around him, so she avoided him for the most part. Today was not to be one of those days.

The court sorcerer ran a hand through his hair. "Tired," he confessed, "but that's nothing new. We're all tired." The bags under his eyes suggested he was faring worse than the others, though. "Arthur needs us."

Morgana knew he was right. She sucked in a deep breath, her head pounding like it always did when she thought about the last two years of her life. So many mistakes she had made... and it went further than that. What scared her above all was the thought of what she'd been  _going_ to do.

There was a lot still to be done, both for her to make for her mistake and for Camelot to be fully restored. Arthur, having taken his place as king, had a difficult path ahead of him. He had as good as emptied the council and needed to replace them before too long, and he was weeding through Morgana's band of knights to find the ones worth keeping.

Mordred had been the first to go.

"He's still going to die in the end," said Merlin quietly, interrupting Morgana's thoughts. If she didn't know any better, she would have said he was reading them. "Arthur. Mordred's still going to kill him someday."

"It's not my fault," objected Morgana at once, then realized how churlish that sounded. "I-I'm sorry. I know that's not... the point. I don't want it to happen either."

Merlin sighed. "You've got a long way to go, Morgana," he said honestly, and her heart clenched. "But you're trying," he added, giving her a small smile. "And you're not threatening to imprison me in a tree, so I guess that's a start."

She might have laughed at that, once. Maybe she would again. "It's a start," she agreed, then hesitated. "Listen, I..."

"No apologies," interjected Merlin firmly. "'Sorry' is just a word, and it isn't going to help anything. I already believe you regret what you've done, so the only thing left is to do what you can to reverse it. You can start," he said thoughtfully, "by helping Arthur find some new members for the council. He wants a diverse set of advisors, not a bunch of nobles who live on pure tradition. If you think of someone, let him know. Or let Lancelot know, so Arthur doesn't have to deal with it right away. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," said Morgana quickly. Her emotions were threatening to overcome her once again, and it must have shown on her face. "It's just hard to believe that you can trust me so easily, so soon after..." She didn't need to finish.

Merlin took her hand. "After all you gave up that night, I think it's obvious where your loyalties lie."

How strange it was that two years after he poisoned her, Merlin could be at Morgana's side again, neither acting like it ever happened. So much had changed since then, for better or for worse.

The king cleared his throat behind them, and Merlin and Morgana jumped apart, realizing that their hands were still clasped in one another's.

"That thing I said to you, about how my father would react if anything happened between the two of you?" Arthur asked Merlin pointedly. Merlin nodded, remembering all too well. "That still applies."

"But you're marrying Gwen!" objected Merlin, then added as an afterthought, "and  _nothing_ is happening between us!"

Arthur glared at them suspiciously. "Keep it that way," he commanded, but Morgana could have sworn she saw him smile when he turned away.

Some things were different, yes, but some things would never change. Thankfully, the future wasn't one of them.

And, to everyone's relief, neither was Morgana Pendragon.


End file.
